just a small thing

who: porter and medea
where: his car
when: late

Unsurprisingly, sleep wasn't coming. Porter had gone through all but one of his mice, dropping the last into Wade's cage and hoping that the meager fractions of energy could sustain him for a few days, or at least get rid of the strange visions he was having. The scent-trails he could see were distracting, to say the least, but at least his room hadn't offered many variations to adapt to. Once he'd finished his shopping, he'd tried to burn off some mental energy with rough pencils for the comic, storyboarding out a sequence he generally liked that detailed the attack on the hospital.

Unfortunately, what had started as a fun distraction turned into a genuine problem as Porter worked, reliving the strain of the last couple of days in his own artwork. He'd been on a panel of the Conduit barricading a room to protect the clockwork girl, Machina, when he just... couldn't do it any more. The art was supposed to relieve his stress, not drag him back into the worst of his own lingering fears. Porter had sat in silence for half an hour, staring at the unfinished art as his mind raced. He couldn't use escapism on this, not this time. Not if he wanted to be the hero he'd been telling himself he was.

Sighing at himself, Porter wheeled from his desk in his chair to grab his phone. He ended up staring at Medea's number for a solid five minutes before he finally gave in, thumbs blurring across the keypad and finally hitting 'send'. You awake?

Medea did happen to be awake, sitting on her bed with her laptop, watching the footage from the news broadcasts, and looking over news forums as people gave wildly differing opinions on the matter. When she got the text, she looked it over, and replied back immediately. Awake. Watching all the scary news stuff. Have you seen it? she texted in return, even if she was aware that she was likely going to be forced to 'Talk' with him sometime soon.

All of it, Porter sent back with a frown. He'd been watching, for sure, and even if it didn't all seem to add up? There were revelations to consider now, new facts that couldn't be ignored. The werewolves had revealed themselves, and they were being blamed for things Porter couldn't buy into. And even if he felt stupid for it? He didn't much care right now. He was far more focused on the idea that the girl he loved, the one he'd exposed his secrets to, might be some kind of demon or... something. Can you sneak out? I want to see you.

Medea glanced at her door, then the time. I can. Where do you want me to meet you? she texted back, knowing Isabelle could cover for her. She didn't want Porter believing he wasn't her top priority, someone she'd risk everything for. Though really, she remembered being out last month with the werewolves, and really hoped she didn't meet one on the way to wherever. She certainly couldn't take one down herself. It'd go through her like nothing.

When her text arrived, Porter hopped up to grab his sweatshirt, tugging it on over his head quickly. He grabbed his climbing claws from his desk drawer, palming one and yanking open his window to bask in the cool night air. Out here, the scent trails were nearly nonexistent, a sharp contrast to the fuzz of aromas in his own home. Just be outside in five minutes. I'll pick you up. He pocketed his phone once the message sent, slipping on his other claw and easing out of the window. Reliance on energy or not, Porter was getting stronger. Better, he corrected silently, feeling the weight of the keys to his parents' car in one pocket. They kept a spare, and he just happened to know where it was. If they woke to hear him leaving, who cared? Not Porter; he was feeling more and more like their rules just couldn't apply to him any more.

Well that was good, it meant that she would have her protection in place to travel anywhere. Then she got her coat and boots, she put her laptop in her backpack, and then quietly snuck out to wait outside for Porter. She just did it in the shadows of the porch, so she wasn't fully obvious from the street, either.

Even a drive as short as the one from his house to Medea's left room for doubt. He shouldn't be here, he should just empty his bank accounts and run, but Porter wasn't doing that. He wanted answers, and even more than that? He wanted hope. Pulling up just down the street from Medea's, he sat in silence with the headlights off, watching the faint arcs of color float through the air. Exhaust, maybe? Someone's late-night snack? But there was nothing so dominant or present as to make him think a werewolf lurked nearby. Here, he sent a moment later, clicking on the interior lights.

She got the text, and looked around, seeing the flash. Then she moved to walk over to the car, thinking that this seemed more ominous than usual, really. Porter was generally warm and given to being sappy, but tonight he seemed short. Still, she got into the car, and shut the door, shivering as she did so and it wasn't feigned. Her frail form didn't put up with cold any better than it did punishment. "Are you okay?" she asked first, looking at him with the picture of worried concern on her features.

He didn't answer immediately, dropping the car into gear and starting to drive a slow pace along the shoreline, not trusting himself to even look Medea's way. Peripheral vision told him about her shiver, and he turned up the heat in response as Porter fought to resist what two senses were now telling him. He could smell her, that scent of her hair and skin that had driven him mad before. And now? He could see it too. It was soft whorls of muted purple curling from her, circulating on the currents of the car's vents. "Why did we leave the chapel?" Porter finally asked in a soft voice, staring intently at the road as he gripped the wheel tightly.

Right, so here it was. She'd considered what to tell him, and in the end, she went for the truth, or as close to it as she generally got. It was easiest that way, along with the fact that it would be more vulnerability she could put out there for him. In the guise of 'just' for him. "...I don't know." she said, voice soft, and she hung her head as if ashamed. "It's always been like that for me. I don't know why. I avoid churches, or cemeteries, or...anywhere like that. If I'm there for very long, well. You saw me. It gets worse and worse."

He wanted to believe her. Porter wanted that so badly that it made his heart ache. She couldn't be a demon, could she? And if she was, couldn't it be possible that she didn't even know? She was from foster families, she didn't know her real mother... In the end, what choice did he have? She knew him, Medea saw to the core of him. Without her, he'd be more alone than he'd ever been. "I..." he started, his voice failing him as Porter drove. What could he even say? Tell her the truth? Or what he suspected to be the truth? There was no way to without making it an accusation. "Isabelle too?" he eventually asked, daring to glance sidelong at Medea.

She nodded. "Yes." she answered, still not looking at him. She fidgeted with her hands, twisting a cheap trinket on her backpack's zipper. "It kind of works differently, like she gets more flu-like symptoms, but it's the same. We both become very ill and weak." she admitted. "She doesn't know why either. We believe it has something to do with our mother, wherever she is. Neither of us know, we never met her, and we've got no way of finding her either."

Porter couldn't keep this up. Not the stern expression, or the vague questions. He couldn't keep not looking at her. Pulling over along an expanse of shoreline with slabs of old concrete piled high along it, he parked and turned the interior lights back on. "Medea, I... I'm sorry," he finally said, "I just... those things couldn't come in the chapel, and they were demons. And I didn't know what to think." All at once, the grim look faded as he looked her way, fading in the wake of a wave of uncertainty.

Medea reached up to turn the dome light off again, as if she felt too exposed with it on. There was some truth to that, though it was more she didn't feel like park patrol pulling over to see what they were up to, or alerting rampaging werewolves to their position. She just used it to her advantage otherwise. "Don't be sorry, Porter." she said first. "You've got every right to want to ask questions, if I were you, I would. I knew you would eventually. I'm...I'm sorry I didn't bring it up first. I just don't know how to explain it, and yes. The...the obvious answer would be that our mother was..." she trailed off, as if she couldn't put voice to the thought.

Her minor touches worked perfectly, turning the uncertainty Porter felt into guilt. She didn't want him to see her, not with what he was forcing her to confront. "I wouldn't know what to say either," he offered, settling back in his seat and sighing with tension, "Everything's just so fucked up, you know?" Leaning back into the headrest, he turned to watch Medea anxiously. "It's not... I trust you. I do, and I love you. But christ, Medea? People died back there, Isabelle's friend Skye is gone, and people are blaming it on werewolves? And those weren't werewolves. And... I don't know what I'd do if you were suddenly gone," he gushed in a low voice, thinking about Caleb's warning. "I... I can't do this, can't handle this without you."

"I don't think I can handle any of this without you either." Medea said, letting her voice waver a little bit with the statement. "But I don't know what to do, either. I don't know if this changes anything and I don't know how to even start dealing with it. And it's...you saw. I know you saw the red." she said, gesturing slightly to her face, where she knew he'd viewed the ruddy coloring and strangeness her skin had in places. "it's not just there. And it started small when I was little, but it keeps...spreading."

Porter nodded slightly, wishing he was a smoker so he'd have something to fidget with. "I saw," he agreed, reaching out nervously to claim Medea's hand where it lingered near her cheek. It was spreading? What did that even mean? It worried him, made him think on dozens of comics where something like that was a bad omen, a herald of transformation. Was the girl he loved bound to turn into something else entirely? "But... whatever it is, whatever it means? Even if it changes something? You start dealing with it by knowing I'm here, okay?"

She finally looked over at him, choosing that moment to convey he was 'getting through' to her. She didn't say anything immediately, biting at her lower lip and effecting an expression that conveyed heartache and vulnerability. "You promise?" she asked, voice wobbly again. She still wanted him believing he was strong, that he was the powerful force in their relationship. That she saw him that way, believed in and needed him.

It worked perfectly, more the shame for Porter. "I promise," he murmured, turning in his seat to face her fully, "I swear, Medea. Whether you want to find out what's happening to you or just be you, I'm here. In there? I would've used every bit of power to get you out." He nearly had, in fact, and while he wouldn't say it out loud? Porter would've gladly drained any of the others if it meant he could keep defending her.

She gave a watery smile, then leaned over to put her arms around his neck, to hold onto him tightly. "I love you." she told him, a quiet, wavery tone again in his ear. Like she was too emotional to keep it in, or keep it steady. "I don't know what I'd do without you." she added. Well, if she'd had any doubts about where his loyalty lay, it was clearer now.

He'd needed this, a different kind of strength entirely. It was a justification for him to keep doing what he did, to stem off the self-damning thoughts of 'freak' that haunted him at times. She was... possibly demonic, though Porter wouldn't turn it into a definite fact yet. But she believed in him, she needed him. And back in his room were shelves and shelves of stories where the villaness could be redeemed, where someone's strength of character determined who they were.

"You'll never have to find out," he whispered into Medea's hair, slipping his arms low around her back to draw her towards him. "You don't have to hide anything from me, not ever. Not the mark on your cheek, not what you don't know that scares you."

She shifted, crawling over the median so she could sit in his lap. "I think everything right now scares me." she said, voice quiet. "The whole world seems to be going insane, people are dying, and I just...don't know what to do. I feel like I'm going to get lost, drown in it all. And how are you? I know you used up energy there, protecting us all." She wanted to put 'us all' in there so he'd feel even more like the hero she knew he wanted to be. "Are you okay?"

No. No no no, he thought as she climbed in close to him, shuddering with relief and losing himself in the swirl of colors that were her scents. "I... I'm okay," he murmured, not wanting to weigh her down even more with his problems. "Weak, but I'll get by." The mice did help, and even the sliver of life the demon had retained was potent, but neither of those would last him forever. "Sometimes, when I'm low? I feel... angry, strained, like what I can do has a mind of its' own. Like it might find somewhere to feed if I can't."

"Maybe it's just a defense mechanism." she said, voice soft, as she nuzzled at his cheek a little. "If you're low, how do we fix that?" she asked. "How can we make you better? And soon?" She didn't especially think his being low and weaker was a good thing. He needed to have the strength to do things if he was required to. So it was in her best interest to cater to that, to try and work out the issue. Plus, if she was part of the process this time, it could be considered more acceptable for him. Or, more acceptable in regards to her.

Porter gave a short, humorless laugh before he pulled Medea in tight against him, fighting a weak sniffle. She had to ask, and he couldn't lie to her. If she thought being something close to demonic was bad, how would she feel about him being a fangless vampire? "Either I find a purse-snatcher like the Conduit does? Or I go out tomorrow, buy thirty mice, and drain them," he murmured, tensing under Medea in anticipation of a bad reaction.

She tensed a little, let it last for a few moments, then she continued her nuzzling. "Why don't we find you something bigger?" she asked, voice soft. Warm. She kissed his cheek. "There are deer around, I know that. Or...could you try to take a little from me?" she asked, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "Even if it was just a smidge?" she continued.

"No." he snapped almost instantly, looking Medea dead in the eye and shaking his head, "Don't... don't even think that, Medea, okay? I'd never want to touch you like that, it's... it's just wrong." The distress was plain in his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as Porter forced a slow breath. "I, um, I tried a deer. I think if I take another, the police or the DNR or someone would notice. I'll just... I'll figure something out," Porter assured her, nodding at his own words. But even if her suggestion had unnerved him? There was something encouraging there; maybe the idea that she would help him find a way to feed.

"I hardly think two deer would be an epidemic. We could just drag it a little farther in the woods, maybe no one would even see it. I'm sure deer drop dead a lot. Especially in the winter, and it's been a harsh one so far." Medea said, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. She kept her eyes on his. She paused, then kissed him, a soft brush of one before she pulled back again. "We'll figure something out." she corrected him slightly. "You won't abandon me to deal on my own, I'm not going to abandon you either."

He wanted to argue that, to say that she was too frail, too delicate. But at the same time? Porter didn't want to sell her short; all he had to do was look at the very different, yet still real strength Medea was showing in this moment. "I... I don't want you to see me killing," he whispered, though her kiss had stolen a great deal of the conviction from his voice, "But we'll figure something out, you're right. We'll find something." Someone, maybe, he thought, surprising himself with that dark consideration.

"I don't want to see you suffering." she told him. "If it's a choice, I'm going to go with you needing to borrow a life to sustain your own." Medea traced her fingertips along his cheek, and she gave him another kiss, drawing it out a little. "You didn't ask for this. I know you didn't. It's not your fault, you don't have anything to be ashamed of, Porter." she promised him. Just a small step towards making it okay, but oh so reasonable.

Whatever resolve he'd had, whatever would-be heroic logic he was trying to work from? It was slipping. Medea's shaken state had burned right past his initial ire, shattering Porter's resolve to get his questions answered. And now? The slow kisses were toppling his desire to be steadfast. "I didn't ask for this," he echoed softly as Medea withdrew, "And you need me..." It was reasonable along those lines of thinking; Medea needed him to protect her, and he could help keep Tad and Kaysen safe too. "Just an animal, right?" Porter nearly whispered, looking up at her with something close to desperation, some need for approval.

She nodded. "Just an animal. People hunt them all the time anyways, and it's for much less dire reasons. It's for trophys on a wall, things like that. You're not doing that. You're doing it because you really need it to survive." she continued. "It'll be okay." she told him, giving him another kiss. "I promise."

He took a deep breath, basking in the smell of her while she was in so close and leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. Porter felt like a child for being so upset; he was supposed to defend her, not vice-versa. But he couldn't help it, and it was clear evidence that Medea was right. On his own, it would be a slow course of starvation. With her help? They'd both be stronger. "Do, um, do you want to stay for a while?" he whispered, smiling slightly and with just a touch more confidence.

She smiled a bit in return, and she nodded. "Yes." she told him. "I do." She was also thinking of plans, working out a sort of 'schedule' to track Porter's feeding habits. Medea would want to chart it all logically, work out when he'd be most and least vulnerable. Of course on the surface it would just look like she was taking a major hand in helping him.

Those sparse, simple words made Porter's smile grow wider, restoring his faith in the two of them as much as everything else they'd said did. She wanted to be here, he still couldn't believe it most of the time. She wasn't indebted, or pitying him... You just hit the jackpot, tiger, he told himself as Porter's arms tightened around Medea' pulling her snugly into him as he kissed her fervently.

She kissed him back, thoughts oddly along a similar line, though hers were significantly darker. She'd just locked in Porter's mindset even more than before, and she'd had him hooked. Now she was working on making him need her. Truly need her. After that...well. She'd be able to do anything.